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  He took long, steady strides like Karen. He closed in on the twins. "Beep-beep," he said. They glanced back, looking startled, and Pigtails fell in behind her sister to make room. He lunged past them.

  One muttered, "Turkey," as he left them behind. He didn't look back.

  Karen came into view as he rounded a bend. He kept up his speed until he was only a couple of yards behind her, then slowed his pace to match hers.

  Turning sideways, she smiled back at him. Even in that funny hat, she was beautiful. "Do you want through?" she asked.

  "No, thanks. This is fine."

  It was real fine. He stayed behind her, watching her walk, listening to her voice as she talked with Mrs. Gordon. He couldn't make out many of the words, but that didn't matter.

  His shoulders hurt. His back was sore just above his rump where the pack rested. His leg muscles trembled. Sweat dripped down his face. His shirt and underwear felt glued to his skin. He was huffing for breath. But he didn't slow down. He stayed close behind Karen, well ahead of the snotty twins, and Julie and Nick.

  No matter how awful he felt, he wouldn't fall behind. He wouldn't let himself.

  Finally, the trail leveled out.

  Then it sloped gently downward. He scanned the valley to the left, but saw only thick woods.

  The lake's gotta be here someplace, he thought.

  Two miles, the marker had said. They must've already hiked five. So where is it? Maybe the sign lied. Maybe there was a number one in front of the two and it was covered with dirt or something, and Juniper Lake is twelve miles. No, the ranger had said . . .

  "Here we are," came Mr. Gordon's voice. He and Dad had stopped just ahead.

  "How's it going?" Dad asked Karen.

  "Whew," she said. She took off her hat. It had matted down her hair. The strands across her forehead were wet and dark.

  "It was a doozy," Benny said.

  She smiled at him, and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

  "You did real good," Dad told him. "That was pretty tough going."

  He shrugged, and managed not to wince as pain streaked through his shoulders. "It wasn't so tough," he said.

  While they waited for the others to catch up, Mr. Gordon showed them the trail sign. It read juniper lake, but gave no distance. The arrow pointed to the left, where a narrow trail joined the main one and dropped away from the slope. Benny peered into the trees. He saw no trace of a lake.

  "Where's the lake?" the ponytailed girl asked, frowning at her mother.

  "Down there," Mrs. Gordon said.

  "I don't see it."

  "Me either," said the sister.

  "Right there " Benny told them. He pointed down the trail at the shadowy forest. "Can't you see it?" he asked.

  "No. Where?"

  "See? Through there?"

  Both girls scrunched up their faces and squinted into the trees.

  "Maybe you need glasses," Benny suggested.

  "Do not."

  Quite a while later, well after reaching the bottom of the hill, Benny spotted a pale area through the trees ahead. The lake surface. About time.

  "There it is!" cried one of the twins.

  He grinned to himself, and kept on walking.

  "Well now." With a sigh, Flash slung his pack to the ground.

  Scott took off his pack, too. The clearing, at the foot of the trail, was close to the shoreline. It had obviously been used often as a campsite. There were logs laid out as benches around a fireplace. There was a small pile of firewood. Plenty of flat area for sleeping.

  Listening carefully, Scott heard the breeze stirring the leaves, the quiet lap of waves. But he heard no running water that would indicate a nearby stream.

  "Why don't you all take a load off," he suggested. "I'll scout ahead. There might be a better place farther on."

  "This looks all right to me," Flash said.

  "Well, I'd rather be near a stream. Running water."

  "Good point," Flash said.

  "I'll come with you." Karen swung her pack off, set it down, and joined him.

  Benny, sitting on the ground against his pack, started to get up.

  "You wait here," Scott told him. "We'll just be gone a few minutes."

  Looking disappointed, the boy settled back.

  Karen followed Scott along a path near the shoreline. Without his pack, he felt nearly weightless. He walked with a springy step. The breeze was cool against his damp T-shirt. And he was alone with Karen, at least for the moment. He turned to her. "Howdy, stranger."

  She ducked under his outstretched arm, and leaned against him. He cupped her shoulder. They walked along the path, holding each other. "Now, this is nice," she said.

  "You surviving the kids all right?"

  "Sure. They're fine. Benny's quite a guy."

  "I think he's fallen for you. Can't blame him." "I've fallen for him, too." She patted Scott's side. "Good thing for you he's just a kid."

  "I wish Julie'd shape up. Maybe she will, now that Nick's around."

  "They seem to be getting along okay."

  "Yeah." He sighed.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Well, I've been thinking about the sleeping arrangements. I really don't see how we can manage . . ."

  "I know. I've thought about that, too. I guess I tent with Julie, huh?"

  "I can't figure any way around it, what with the kids and the Gordons."

  "That's all right. Maybe we'll be able to sneak off, sometime."

  "You can bet on it."

  Karen's hand moved down, and pushed into a rear pocket of his trousers. It stayed there, curved against his rump, caressing, as they walked along the path.

  "If Julie gives you any trouble," Scott said, "let me know."

  "I'm sure we'll be fine. It'll give us a chance to get to know each other."

  "She's really not a bad kid. I've been trying to figure her out. It hit her pretty hard when her mother split. But it was never 'How could she do that to me?' She only seemed upset that I'd been dumped on. She really holds it against June, won't even talk to her on the phone. Both kids are pretty bitter about what she did, but with Julie it seems to have spilled over onto you. It's not you personally. She'd have the same feeling toward any woman I got serious about. I'm sure of that. She seems to feel it's her duty to protect me."

  "Maybe she'll get over it once we know each other better."

  "I sure hope so. I feel bad, though, that you have to be put through this kind of thing."

  Karen smiled up at him. "Hell, you're worth it."

  "Is that so?"

  "That's so."

  They rounded a bend in the shoreline, and Scott heard the sound of rushing water.

  "Success!" Karen said. She squeezed his rump, withdrew her hand from his pocket, and stepped ahead through a narrow passage between two trees. Scott watched her hurry forward. She bounded up a small, rocky rise, glanced down, then whirled around. "Voila!" she cried.

  Scott climbed up to join her. A few feet below, a stream tumbled and swirled over rocks on its way to the lake.

  They stepped down to it. Kneeling, Karen dipped a hand into the water. She cupped some to her mouth, and drank. "It's luscious," she said. As Scott tried the chilly water, she splashed her face. Then, to his amazement, she unbuttoned her blouse. She spread it open, scooped up water with both hands, and flung it against herself. He watched it splatter her bare skin. It slid over her breasts, dripped from the jutting tips of her nipples, rolled down her belly. Bending over, she cupped more water to her mouth.

  Scott reached across her back. He lifted the hanging side of her blouse out of the way, and curled his fingers around her breast. The skin was wet and cool, the nipple springy against his palm. She turned her face to him, and they kissed. "We'd . . . better not."

  He kissed her again, then let go. As Karen buttoned her blouse, he caressed her back beneath it. Then they stood up. Scott filled his lungs with the fresh air. "Well, let's see if there's a decent place around
here to pitch camp."

  They leaped across the stream, walked up a low slope of broken granite, and looked down at a clearing. "All right," Karen said.

  They made their way down to it. In the middle stood a nicely built-up stone fireplace with a grate across the top. Large, flat-topped rocks and smoothly sawed logs for stools were placed around it. Someone had even gone to the trouble of lashing branches together in the semblance of a table. Best of all, Scott saw plenty of level ground for the tents.

  "It looks ideal to me," Karen said.

  "Me, too."

  They headed back to tell the others.

  "Let's get organized here," Flash said, rubbing his hands together. "Nick, you help me with the tents. Alice, why don't you and the girls scout around for firewood? We'll get this show on the road."

  "Benny," Scott said. "You want to go with them?"

  The boy shook his head. "I wanta do the tents."

  As Alice led the twins into the trees, Flash turned to Scott. "Where do you want to set up? You should get first choice, since you found this place."

  "Makes no difference to me," Scott told him. "Right here's fine for one. Maybe pitch the other over there." He nodded toward a level area closer to the lake.

  "You want one that far off?"

  "Sure. Why not? Give everybody a little breathing room."

  "Breathing room, eh?" He winked.

  Scott looked amused as he pulled a tubular plastic bag from his pack.

  "Which place do we get?" Benny asked.

  "We should let the ladies pick."

  "How about it?" Karen asked Julie.

  The girl shrugged.

  "Over by the lake?"

  "I don't care."

  "I wanta be close to the fire," Benny said.

  Karen grinned. "You've got it. Julie and I'll take the scenic tent." For a moment, her eyes met Flash's. There was mischief in them. Fooled you, they seemed to say.

  Flash was fooled, all right. If he'd been in Scott's shoes, nothing in the world could've kept him from tenting with a woman like Karen. He hadn't put it quite that way to Alice, when they'd discussed it last night. He'd simply bet her a dinner at Victoria Station against a dinner at Casa Escobar that the couple would share a tent. "I don't know about the girl," she said, "but Scott isn't that way." Flash had smiled at that. He managed to refrain from telling about the time in Saigon when he and Scott, bare-ass and side by side, humped the daylights out of a couple of whores — then traded. No point in tarnishing Scott's image. Hell, Scott was about the only friend of his that Alice approved of. "Aside from just good manners," Alice had continued, "he wouldn't put Julie and Benny together. They're too old to be sleeping together." That point nearly succeeded in changing Flash's mind. Still, he hadn't called off the bet. Maybe they'd show up with three tents, one for each kid and . , .

  "Over here?" Nick asked.

  Flash turned around. His son was standing in a six-foot space between two spruces, a rolled-up tent in his arms. "That'll be fine. Hold up a minute, though, till we clear the ground."

  Together, they brushed away the twigs and pinecones littering the area. Then they rolled out the red tent, and spread it flat. They joined the fiberglass wands, slid them in at the four corners, inserted the tips into eyelets at the top and bottom, and lifted the roof. In less than five minutes, the tent was up. All that remained was to tie out the guy lines and stake it down.

  "I'll get the hatchet," Flash said.

  He headed for his pack. Scott, Karen, and Benny had nearly finished setting up a blue, two-man tent similar to his own. Julie was crouched by the fireplace, pouring fuel from an aluminum bottle into the base of a Primus stove.

  Flash rummaged through his pack. As he looked for the hatchet, his stomach growled. He tried to remember the menu he'd worked out with Scott, but couldn't recall what was planned for tonight's meal. One of the Dri-Lite stews, probably. With pudding for dessert — either vanilla or chocolate. He hoped for vanilla. Nothing could beat that vanilla pudding, especially when it didn't get mixed up real good and still had some of those lumps in it.

  He found the hatchet. As he walked back toward the tent, he saw Nick staring into space. No, not into space. At Julie. The girl was holding the small stove high, waving a lighted match under its base to warm the fuel for priming.

  Wouldn't that be something, Flash thought, if Nick and Julie got together? He wondered if Scott would approve. No reason why he shouldn't. Nick's a fine lad, an Eagle Scout, a good student, and my son. The girl could sure do worse.

  So could Nick. A lot worse. As far as Flash knew, the boy had never dated a gal half as attractive as Julie.

  She shook out the match, turned a metal key to start the gas jetting, and frowned.

  "I'll take care of the stakes, Nick. Go on over and see if Julie needs a hand with the stove."

  The boy shrugged.

  "Go on. Maybe the nozzle's clogged."

  "Well . . . okay. Be right back." He walked toward her. Julie smiled when she saw him approach. "Having some trouble?" he asked.

  "This thing doesn't want to cooperate."

  "Here, let me take a look."

  Go to it, boy, Flash thought, and picked up a stake.

  Chapter Eight__________

  Crouched by the stream, Karen shivered and gritted her teeth. Only a couple of hours ago, she'd been splashing herself to cool off. Then the water had felt like ice on her hot skin. Now, with the sun down and a chilly breeze blowing, the water seemed almost warm.

  Except for Benny, everyone else had already finished washing their cook kits and returned to camp. He stood on the opposite bank, shaking and waving his aluminum dish to dry it while Karen scrubbed out the big pot. He was smart. He'd put on a jacket before coming over. Karen was still in her shorts and thin blouse. The blouse did no good at all. The cold breeze passed through the cloth as if it weren't there.

  Benny sat down on a rock across from her. He wiped the dish across a leg of his jeans. "Aren't you awfully cold?" he asked.

  "I'm one giant goosebump."

  "You want me to get a jacket for you?"

  "That's all right, I'm about done. Thanks, though."

  "It's funny how it gets so cold."

  "The altitude, I guess. You bake during the day and freeze at night."

  "Yeah. It's weird. It sure isn't like home."

  "That's one of the great things about camping," she said. "Home looks so good after you've been out here a while. You start dreaming about a hot bath, a soft bed . . ."

  "Yeah!" Benny leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Last year, we were out for a week and I got so I had to have a chocolate milkshake. I wanted one so bad I couldn't stand it. Then Dad stopped at Burger King on the way home and . . . gee, I think that was the best milkshake I ever had. I can taste it, just thinking about it."

  "Just thinking about it makes me cold." Karen rinsed out the pot, stood up, and shook the water from it. "Right now, I could go for some coffee."

  "We've got cocoa, too," Benny said. Standing up, he brushed off the seat of his jeans. "And marshmallows."

  "Maybe I'll have a marshmallow in my coffee."

  He laughed, and hopped across the stream.

  "Thanks for keeping me company," Karen told him as they walked up the granite slab.

  "Ah, that's all right."

  The clearing ahead shimmered with firelight. Most of the others were seated close to the fire.

  "Thought we'd lost you," Scott called.

  "Save me some coffee," Karen called back. She handed the pot to Benny, and carried her cook kit down a gradual slope to the tent. "Right with you," she said over her shoulder.

  Her backpack was propped against a rock near the tent entrance. She lifted the flap, dropped her kit into the darkness, and dug through the equipment trying to find her jeans and parka. They were near the bottom, of course. What you wanted was always at the bottom.

  Clamping the jeans between her legs, she quickly shook open the parka and put it on. Sh
e sighed with relief at its warmth.

  Then she crawled into the tent. It was very dark inside, but she didn't need her light for this. She sat on her soft, down-filled sleeping bag, took off her boots, and changed from her shorts to the long-legged jeans. Pushing into her boots, she left the tent. She hurried toward the fire, hoping she wouldn't trip on the laces.

  Her cup was still on the stump where she'd left it after dinner. "All set," she said.

  "Coffee?" Scott asked.

  "You bet." She held out the cup. Scott spooned in granules of instant from a plastic bag, then poured hot water into her cup and gave it a stir. Steam rose against Karen's face as she took a sip. "Ah, that's good." She sat on the stump, and drank more.

  Benny, she saw, already had cocoa with a couple of marshmallows floating on the surface.

  "How about some songs?" Alice suggested.

  They started with "Michael, Row the Boat Ashore." Then it was "Shenandoah." Flash led them in "Danny Boy," to which he knew all the words, and seemed almost tearful as he sang of the boy returning to his father's grave.

  "Let's get into something more upbeat," Scott said when that one ended. In a loud baritone, he started "The Marine Corps Hymn" and everyone joined in, their voices booming.

  " 'The Caisson Song'!" Nick called out.

  Then "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," then, "Dixie." When that was done, the Gordons sang a song about a logger who stirred his coffee with his thumb.

  "That puts me in mind of Robert Service," Scott said. " 'There are strange things done in the midnight sun . . .' "

  " 'By the men who moil for gold,' " Karen said along with him, smiling that they both knew the same poem. They continued with it, line after line, one remembering what the other forgot until they finally got Sam McGee cremated on the marge of Lake LaBarge.

  Their performance drew applause, and a two-fingered whistle from Julie.

  Alice urged the twins to recite "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening."

  "Sissy stuff," Flash said when they finished. "How's about this one? 'You may talk o' gin and beer/When you're quartered safe out here,/And you're sent to penny-fights and Aldershot it . . .' "